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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26133508">Worst Patient</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/god_commissioned_me/pseuds/god_commissioned_me'>god_commissioned_me</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, No Spooks AU, Polyamory, Sickfic, TMAHCWeek 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:47:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26133508</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/god_commissioned_me/pseuds/god_commissioned_me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerry comes down with a fever. Jon frets. Martin mothers them both.<br/>Or, sometimes the only cure for a cold is to have your two boyfriends cuddle it out of you.<br/>Written for TMA Hurt/Comfort Week</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>141</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Worst Patient</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is nothing but tomfoolery on my part. i slammed this out in under an hour and it is fully unedited and unbeta'd; i just remembered that there was a sickfic prompt today and wanted to write gerryjonmartin bc they all deserve cuddles</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Honeys, I’m home,” Martin calls, voice high and lilting with the constrained laughter that presses against the back of his throat, amused in anticipation of his boyfriends’ reactions to the overused joke rather than the joke itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there is no loud groan from the rest of the flat. There is no sound at all. Jon doesn’t even roll his eyes when he peeks around the corner from the kitchen; he just looks drawn and worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Martin asks immediately, dropping his work bag by the door and walking closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he has a fever,” Jon says, nodding toward the bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if in response, the sound of Gerry’s wet coughing drifts through the closed door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin reaches in his pockets for his keys. “A&amp;E?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - I don’t know, I don’t think it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad, but I can’t tell if - ” Jon stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he’s pretending it’s not serious,” Martin says grimly. “Well, luckily, I have experience dealing with that.” He lifts an eyebrow pointedly at Jon, who raises his arms defensively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, that’s - that’s not fair,” he protests, but he quiets when Martin pulls him into a hug. His tense shoulders relax briefly as Martin’s broad hand comes to rest between them, and he sighs softly into Martin’s patterned jumper. He pulls away after a moment, though, turning back to the kitchen. “I’m, um, I’m making soup - it’s what you always do, and it’s… nice. So I thought…” He opens the microwave and pulls out a steaming bowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin doesn’t have the heart to point out that he usually doesn’t serve canned tomato soup. He smiles gently. “Good thinking. I’ll get him some water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gerry tries to sit up when the two of them parade into the bedroom, but another fit of coughing sends him sinking down into the pillows again. Martin notices but doesn’t comment on the fact that Gerry is wearing Martin’s oldest hoodie, which means he’d either stolen it from Jon’s drawer or (more likely) Jon had offered it to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like you could use this,” Martin says, sitting on the edge of the mattress beside him and offering the glass of water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gerry takes it begrudgingly. “Don’t fuss. I’m fine. It’s just - something I picked up at work, probably.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” Martin waits until he’s finished drinking before placing a hand against Gerry’s forehead. Jon was right; he’s definitely got a fever, but it’s not strong enough to warrant an immediate trip to the doctor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, do you think you could eat?” Jon is still standing nervously at the foot of the bed, bowl clutched in both hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin’s heart aches gently to see him so uncertain. Jon doesn’t have much experience in caretaking, but that doesn’t stop him from dissolving into a fluttering mess at the slightest sign that one of his partners is in pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gerry must be thinking something similar because he manages a small smile between coughs, his mask of stoicism cracking. “Anything for you,” he says with a fraction of his usual sarcasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon brightens and crawls onto the bed, holding the bowl carefully aloft as he situates himself on the other side of Gerry. “I - I didn’t know if you wanted crackers with it, but I can go get some if you - ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is fine. I - hhg - ” Gerry’s eyes blow wide suddenly, and Martin has the foresight to shove a tissue from the box by the bed into his hands before he lets out a truly horrific sneeze. “Eurgh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin hums sympathetically and offers another tissue. “Have you taken any medicine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I told Jon I was - fine,” Gerry gets out between sniffles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Martin rolls his eyes fondly. “I’ll be back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he returns with a bottle of paracetamol in one hand and cough medicine in the other, Jon is frowning intently from where he’s kneeling on the mattress. “You said you’d eat!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can feed myself,” Gerry says, making a grab for the spoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me take care of you, damnit!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, careful,” Martin says, swallowing a grin. “Jon, give Gerry the bowl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon tosses him a decidedly petulant glance. “But he’ll spill it everywhere with that cough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’d be less of a problem if you’d chosen literally anything but </span>
  <em>
    <span>red </span>
  </em>
  <span>soup,” Gerry mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon blinks down at the bowl and flushes, drawing the bowl back to his chest. “Oh - oh, you’re probably right, I didn’t - I don’t know how to make the chicken noodle soup like Martin does, I just - ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gerry would probably look repentant if he weren’t screwing his face up against another violent sneeze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure this is lovely, Jon,” Martin says over the loud sounds Gerry is making behind his tissue. “Look, see if you can’t get a little down, and then we’ll get some medicine in you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon reluctantly hands over the soup, but he continues to hover over Gerry, fingers fluttering now that they don’t have anything to occupy them. “Can I - is there anything else I can do, or - do you want another blanket, maybe? More tissues?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good idea,” Martin says calmly. “I think there’s another box under the bathroom sink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon scrambles off the bed and out of the bedroom instantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a new box,” Gerry says, nodding to the one on the bedside table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it is. Eat your soup before he combusts.” Martin smiles and smooths Gerry’s long, black hair away from his face. It’s due for another touch-up - maybe he’ll let him do it for him this time, once the fever has broken. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon slips back into the room, looking hesitantly proud as he tips the box onto Gerry’s lap and climbs back into the bed. “Anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jon, I told you, I’m fine.” Even with a voice betrayed by stuffiness, Gerry manages to sound lovingly exasperated. “It’s just a little cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fever</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jon says. He leans forward to press the back of his small hand against Gerry’s cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gerry sniffs. “Barely.” He catches Martin’s eye and dutifully swallows another spoonful of the soup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you go,” Martin says encouragingly. He passes Gerry the glass of water again, followed by the medicine as he takes the slightly less full bowl from him. “Now, you should rest. Do you want to be alone? Jon and I can go to the living room if you need - ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Gerry interrupts. He scowls and sneezes into another tissue. “Hnk. No. You can - you can stay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon’s anxious expression cracks into a smile. “We’ll keep you warm,” he promises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, budge over, you two.” Martin shakes his head affectionately and scoots further onto the bed, pulling one of the many blankets up over himself and Gerry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon curls into Gerry’s other side, hands disappearing into the folds of the oversized hoodie. “Is the medicine working?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jon, I literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>- ” Gerry breaks off into a round of wet coughs that leave him scrabbling for another tissue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gross,” Martin says lightly. He combs his fingertips through Gerry’s hair again until the coughing fit has passed, then snuggles in closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think,” Gerry says, “that a kiss might cure me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After that hacking? No.” Martin grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” Jon says bravely, “if it’ll make you feel better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jon, Jesus Christ, no.” Gerry rolls his eyes and burrows down into the pillows again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon makes a pouting noise, then presses a defiant kiss into Gerry’s collarbone before hiding his face in his chest. “There,” he says, muffled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to be next, Jon,” Martin predicts. “And you’re going to be a worse patient than Gerry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I take offense to that,” Gerry mumbles. His eyes are already drifting shut, the combination of food, cough medicine, and two warm boyfriends pressing against him finally overtaking his stubborn determination to remain unaffected. “I’ve worked hard to be the worst patient in this relationship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think Jon has to try at all,” Martin says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon, suspiciously, is silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He proves Martin right the next day, and doesn’t look the slightest bit guilty about it.) </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>find me on <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/theyrejustboys">tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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